I didn’t reach for my purse.

I shifted my weight.

Then I drove the heel of my boot into Julian’s knee with every ounce of strength I had.

He screamed and collapsed to the floor, clutching his leg.

Eleanor shrieked.

I stepped around him, unlocked the deadbolt, and opened the door. Cool air rushed in.

“You’re going to jail!” Eleanor screamed. “You attacked him!”

I turned back.

“Please call the police,” I said calmly. “I would love to explain how you locked a pregnant woman inside and tried to force her to give you her bank PIN.”

Then I walked to my car.

But I didn’t go home.

I drove to a bright, crowded grocery store parking lot, locked my doors, and called my attorney, Mr. Sterling.

“Julian and his mother locked me inside Eleanor’s house and tried to extort my ATM PIN,” I said. “Eleanor shoved me. I’m pregnant. I’m safe, but I need to protect my assets.”

Sterling’s voice turned sharp.

“Are you injured?”

“I need a doctor, but first I need to secure everything.”

“I’ll send security to your house, change the locks, and contact the police. What about shared assets?”

“Destroy them.”

“Understood.”

Then I opened my laptop.

First, I canceled the wedding. The luxury venue, the florist, the caterer, the band — all gone within minutes.

Then I went after Julian’s startup.

What his friends didn’t know was that his company survived because of me. I had guaranteed his business loans, and his trendy office lease was under my firm’s corporate umbrella.

He loved calling himself a CEO.

But he was only standing because I had been holding him up.

I logged into my commercial banking portal and terminated my guarantor status. Without me, the bank would freeze his accounts and call the loans.

Then I sent a formal notice ending his office sublease and ordered the building manager to deactivate his keycards.

In less than twenty minutes, Julian lost his wedding, his office, his funding, and his fake image.

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